(no subject)
The whole Island was currently one big fairy tale apparently out to undo Sally Harper at a primitive level.
She could handle waking up with a grey hair (simple, you pluck it, you get absolutely rip-roaring drunk). She could handle a wrinkle (smother it with moisturizer and don't smile at anyone for a week). She could even handle a bad night of sex (more of the alcohol that came with grey hairs, but with accompanied books sent out on the subject of 'It's Really You, Get It Right'). What Sally couldn't handle was a whole population's worth of people going the way of Miss Aurora.
If someone was going to get Sleeping Beauty-ized, it was due to be Sally.
She was currently getting her aggravation out with a knife and a heap of vegetables in the kitchen. She didn't like the fact that it was casting her as the fairy godmother, but maybe she could strike a deal with her own brain and cast herself as Cinderella or something else that had potential for a Prince Charming at the end of the story who wasn't already otherwise engaged to his right hand. Yes, yes, she knew. It was asking the moon when it was already promised to the sun, but Sally had high hopes buried under all her neuroticism and annoyance at humanity in general (but mostly men).
"Bloody island," she muttered, giving the carrot a good hard chop in half. "The one time I could find myself a Prince Charming and apparently I get to play the good wife to no one." She glared at the carrot. "I hope you are happy with this."
She could handle waking up with a grey hair (simple, you pluck it, you get absolutely rip-roaring drunk). She could handle a wrinkle (smother it with moisturizer and don't smile at anyone for a week). She could even handle a bad night of sex (more of the alcohol that came with grey hairs, but with accompanied books sent out on the subject of 'It's Really You, Get It Right'). What Sally couldn't handle was a whole population's worth of people going the way of Miss Aurora.
If someone was going to get Sleeping Beauty-ized, it was due to be Sally.
She was currently getting her aggravation out with a knife and a heap of vegetables in the kitchen. She didn't like the fact that it was casting her as the fairy godmother, but maybe she could strike a deal with her own brain and cast herself as Cinderella or something else that had potential for a Prince Charming at the end of the story who wasn't already otherwise engaged to his right hand. Yes, yes, she knew. It was asking the moon when it was already promised to the sun, but Sally had high hopes buried under all her neuroticism and annoyance at humanity in general (but mostly men).
"Bloody island," she muttered, giving the carrot a good hard chop in half. "The one time I could find myself a Prince Charming and apparently I get to play the good wife to no one." She glared at the carrot. "I hope you are happy with this."